


Roman Holiday

by diamondgore



Series: Overindulged Paranoia [2]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Canon didn't explore this, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Vacation, heterosexual bullshit does happen but only towards the end, no canon spoilers from dawn of x
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25360618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamondgore/pseuds/diamondgore
Summary: Warren knows what a getaway is, Kwannon doesn't.
Relationships: Kwannon / Warren Worthington III
Series: Overindulged Paranoia [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827157
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	Roman Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Halsey's Roman Holiday. 
> 
> This is just some Warren shenanigans with Kwannon with hetero wackiness that goes nowhere.
> 
> It also follows the diamondgore formula of Warren in a hotel room with someone else. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

It was cold near the refrigerator, where all kinds of fruits laid out in plain sight. Kwannon carefully reached out, looking for Warren’s reaction as she grabbed guava. His eyes were covered by oversized sunglasses, and his mouth covered with his hand. It was hard to gauge his reaction, or if he even cared. She knew better than to try and read his mind, the last time she tried she got knocked out. 

Something about his psi-blocks were stronger she expected.

“Are you scared?” Warren asked.

“Scared?” 

Warren reached out to grab a plastic container of pomegranate seeds. “You seem unsure about what you want, am I scaring you?” 

She shook her head. “No, I….” There were so many fruits, from mangos to rambutan to dragon fruit. It was more than she usually saw in her daily life. She was used more to a smaller collection of just lychee and apples. Even when she lived with Matsu'o she hadn’t had this many choices. She was a little overwhelmed. It didn’t help that she only knew Warren on a shallow level. It made her body tense. She stared at the guava in her hand. 

“Can’t decide?” 

“Don’t know if I want to try the guava or rambutan.” She replied. 

“Grab both, then.” He responded. “Money isn’t an issue.” 

Warren didn’t seem to be annoyed, but Kwannon was usually more careful about her self-indulgence. It often proved risky. She grabbed the rambutan from the counter, and then followed Warren as he walked towards the check-out. He tucked a bottle of water underneath his arm. She debated getting a drink but decided against it. 

Whether it was Warren being cocky, or just unaware, when they got to the cashier he pulled out his black card and didn’t notice when the cashier’s eyes widened. They were paying a pretty insignificant amount of money for him to use it. Warren signed a piece of paper and handed it back to the cashier.

“Do you want to eat here or at the hotel?” Warren asked as they stepped outside of the market and into the mall. “Or somewhere else?”

Kwannon shrugged. The weather outside looked pleasant enough. She loved the warm touch of humidity against her skin. She looked outside and saw that the sun had begun to set, realizing how much she and Warren had spent touring the mall without purchasing anything. 

“We should eat outside.” Kwannon said, “We can watch the sunset.”

It was something she hadn’t done in a while. The view would be enhanced by the fountain show that was going to play in the next quarter-hour. She watched Warren’s face twist into a look of discomfort. He dreaded going outside with his wings strapped tightly to his back. 

“On one condition.” 

Kwannon tilted her head to the side, “And that would be?”

“You let me buy you something later.” Warren smiled. “We’ve been here all day, and all we’ve done is window shop.” 

That was true. Since morning, they had been walking around the mall, which proved quite the workout when a mall had its own app. They’d entered a few stores, but Kwannon hated looking at herself in the mirrors, this was a body that was still foreign to her. She supposed she could indulge his wishes later, he was paying for everything else anyway. “We’ll see.” 

The call for prayer cut their conversation short, a sign for them to go outside and lounge under the setting sun. They wander out of the mall and to the outside. It wasn’t as warm as Warren expected it to be, but it was still dreadful. They found a seat by the fountains, and Warren, without a word, popped open his plastic container. 

“You know what I love about Dubai?” He asked. 

Kwannon shook her head. He had not once told her why he chose to take her here. She assumed he had a mission here, but she quickly became aware that this was a getaway in a literal term. 

“I love the luxury here,” Warren said, before putting a spoon of pomegranate in his mouth. “People aren’t obsessed with poverty porn.” 

“Poverty porn?” Kwannon asked carefully. 

“Everyone is so obsessed with finding virtue in being poor. There’s no need to hide your wealth or act like you don’t come from it. Being humble is different from lying, and people lie about having wealth as if it gives them credibility. I hate it. Here the rich embrace it. No need to hide underneath all the guilt of having money.”

“Poverty is not inherently bad, either.” Kwannon said plainly, “There is a virtue in hard work. By extension, poverty has virtues.”

“But not all hard work is equal, is it? Money allows for more virtue because it is easier to avoid vices with it. You can fix a lot more with money than with hard work.” 

Kwannon didn’t respond. Warren viewed wealth as a great privilege, and sometimes money was a lot louder than words. This was her first taste of luxury in years. The last few years she had lived and remembered…they weren’t as decadent as this, but they were comfortable. That comfort she found with Matsu'o whenever they spent time together, was nothing over what Warren had shown her in the past few hours. 

“Can I have your water bottle?” She asked, taking the guava out of the bag. 

“Sure.” He handed her the bottle without question. Kwannon unscrewed the top and poured some of the water on the guava to clean it. Most of it dripped to the scorching cement underneath, it would evaporate eventually. “Smart.” 

Kwannon gave him a sharp look, assuming his compliment is more to poke fun of her than complimenting her. She kept her gaze locked with hers as she bit into the green skin of the guava. It was pleasantly sweet but muted in flavor. Her shoulders relaxed, and she sat back into the chairs. 

Warren talked at her, not to her, while they ate. He made a mental list of what he wanted to do while she stayed with him. “We could go to The Palms if you want to go swimming.”

“I’m not particularly fond of water,” Kwannon responded. She had eaten the guava to down to its core, and contemplated eating more of it, but wrapped it in some tissues that Warren had given her. 

“What do you like?” Warren asked, exasperated. “You’ve rejected everything I’ve suggested. Do you want to just stay inside the hotel all day?” 

Kwannon tensed. Up until a year ago, she had only been trying to survive. Kwannon parted her lips. 

“I do not know what I like.” 

The answer surprised both of them. 

Warren was sympathetic. How could he not be? It was hard to gauge what someone could love or hate if they hadn’t experienced it. Kwannon had only experienced so many things through the lens of someone else. 

“Will you let me devise a plan for the rest of our vacation, then?” He asked. The word our sounded unfamiliar to Kwannon. “If you don’t like something we can stop it immediately. No questions asked.” 

“We can talk about it in a more private place, like at the hotel.” Kwannon got up and grabbed her trash from the table. “Don’t forget your water.”

“Right,” Warren said, teeth gritted in annoyance. He grabbed the bottle from the table and followed her back into the mall before disposing of the trash. 

The cool air-conditioned air of the mall made him miss the times where he had a human icicle follow him everywhere. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling constricted as the sweat on his skin began to irritate where the leather touched it. He probably had another hour in him before the comfort would become unbearable. 

The mall was less crowded now that most people had gone to have dinner or back home. Warren and Kwannon wandered around the mall, with Kwannon refusing to go into any store that had a mirror in it. Warren let it slide, but he was much more annoyed than he would usually be. 

Something had stopped Kwannon in her tracks when they had reached the Souq. Most stores in this area were selling traditional outfits, like thobes and jalabiyas, but most of them sold jewelry to appeal to the western tourists. Warren had continued walking ahead without her but came back when he realized he was talking to the air. 

He found her staring at a necklace at a store that specialized in pearls. Something gold, with a small butterfly made from lavender pearl. She was tilting her neck, trying it on in her head, but she couldn’t imagine it. There was too much of a disconnect of who she was and what she actually looked like. 

Warren took her out of the fantasy by taking her hand. This was the first thing that had caught her attention today, other than the fruits in the supermarket. There was a quick flash of a smile on his face. Kwannon  _ liked _ something.

“Let’s go in.” He said with anxiety as money was burning a hole in his pocket. 

Kwannon didn’t fight him as he dragged her into the store. This was something she would let him spend money on. She promised Warren she would let him buy something for her. The store itself was simple in displays and filled with all kinds of luxury pearl items in colors from shimmering gunmetal to lustrous cream, adorned in silver and gold.

Warren talked to the salesman, asking about the necklace in the window. He gestured towards it with a smile and then implied that he wanted for Kwannon. This was a relief on Kwannon’s part; she still didn’t have the social grace that she wanted talking to the regular public. 

“Would you like to try it on?” The salesman asked. He gestured towards Kwannon as he pulled out the necklace from its velvet box. She nodded and took the necklace from the salesman, and fumbled to put it on. Her nails were trimmed too short.

“Here, let me help.” Warren stepped towards her and fixed the clasp of the necklace. 

All the while the salesman had prepared a mirror. He angled it so that Kwannon could admire herself. Kwannon was gentle with the necklace as she tilted her head up to examine how she looked. For the first time, with Warren smiling eagerly behind her, Kwannon felt comfortable with her face. She could look at it without being horrified. She liked the rounded curve of her jaw and her dark monolid eyes. Her hair was thick and curly which framed her face beautifully. The necklace helped to distract herself in the case she found herself to be overwhelming, but it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. 

“Do you want it?” Warren asked. “It’s gorgeous on you.” 

“Yes.” Kwannon hadn’t wanted for something in a long time, and this would be something that would be only  _ hers _ . It made her feel  _ unique _ again. “I want it.”

That grin on Warren’s face only got bigger. He took out his card just like this afternoon and paid for her necklace. Kwannon decided to wear it out of the store but still took the velvet box companion for later safekeeping. She never believed in retail therapy, but this had lifted her spirits a little bit. 

When they left the store, Warren suggested they go back to the hotel, because the pain of his restraints was reaching its tipping point. Kwannon agreed. Outside the mall, Kwannon called a taxi for them, if it wasn’t for Dubai’s intricate highway system they probably could have walked back to their hotel room rather than take a taxi. 

Their hotel room was not a modest affair, it was everything but. Warren had booked a suite so that the two could sleep in different rooms. It had a master bedroom, which Warren took without question and the guest bedroom which belonged to Kwannon. The hotel was decorated like a palace and not a hotel. The room was covered in soft pinks in the forms of pillows and bedding, and gold as finishing accents. 

Whatever Warren was trying to say about his wealth, this said it all. He was always in it for the luxury. And Kwannon? She didn’t mind. She started to like this taste of the ludicrous and obscene. 

Kwannon put her rambutan in the fridge and then sat down on the satin couch, with her legs crossed. She eyed the menu on the table, wondering if she should flip through it. 

“We should order room service,” Warren said, affirming her thoughts. “I don’t think my wings have it in them to be bound down for another few hours.”

“You’re hungry?” 

“We only had fruits for lunch. I’m allowed to be hungry.” Warren struggled with his shirt, before finally taking it off. “I know what I want, so you can go through it.” 

Grabbing the menu off the table, Kwannon flipped through it. She chose the vegetarian bruschetta. She made a mental note of it. However, she kept it to herself as she watched Warren work on his harness, undoing the buckles and finally letting his furl wings out into the air. His wings were so magnificent that they seemed to dwarf the suite they were in. 

His chest was covered in angry red scars from how tight the restraints were on him. He stretched out his arms and wings, with each part cracking loudly. Then he turned to Kwannon, with his face in an unpleasant frown as he traced the red marking. Kwannon wanted to trace his scars, as a form of intimacy. To get to know him better. His body was different than she remembered it, but could she really trust the memories she had? He was certainly still  _ fit _ , but he wasn’t built. He was still very pretty, even as he scowled. 

“We should order?” Kwannon asked, snapping herself back into reality, “What do you want?” 

“They usually have strawberry cake. I want that.” There was a certain urgency in his voice. 

“Just cake?” 

Warren nodded. “Why?”   
  


“I thought when you said you were hungry you would want for something...more?”

“Oh, then we can order two cakes if that’s what you’re worried about.” Warren shrugged and then grabbed the receiver. He sounded annoyed. “You can go order while I go take a shower.” 

He hesitated to add an  _ I deserve it _ , in the end, but in all honesty, his grandiose feather wings ached like there was no heaven. He walked over to his suitcase and rummaged through for a fresh pair of everything, even though realistically he wouldn’t wear a shirt this late at night. 

In the shower, his wings and chest practically sang with relief as the hot water touched his skin. He wasn’t a fan of being alone with his thoughts, but a little relief from being around Kwannon felt...nice. He didn’t have to turn down his emotions which usually were at a solid eleven out of ten. 

Spending the entire day with her had allowed himself to think about their non-existent relationship. It was odd that she had agreed to come with him to Dubai in the first place, but maybe she was in the same boat as she was, untrusting of Krakoa. They were both these people who had a more than complicated history. 

It was gross to say it out loud, but he had fallen in love with her body at some point in time. He had held some version of her at some point. But whatever was there between them, was lost, territory that wouldn’t be charted ever. Too many gaps in both of their memories. 

However, despite this, he, honest to God, liked this woman. Though her personality was more than a touch abrasive, he still liked her. She was witty, graceful, and they got along. He could be her friend. He wanted it, actually. But there was something he had to make sure of first. There could not be loose ends. 

He turned the shower off, towel-dried himself and got dressed, sans shirt, before walking out into the living room. Kwannon was by the coffee maker making herself a cup of jasmine tea.

“I ordered a bottle of still water too,” Kwannon said, and put the teabag to steep in the water. “I didn’t know what you like to drink.”

“That’s fine, you weren’t wrong.” 

As he approached her, Warren knew what he was going to do was stupid. He thought of backing out, but his curiosity was more powerful than his shame. He had to prove that they were just Warren and Kwannon, and nothing more. There was a friendly smile on his face when he turned to her. 

His hand traced the necklace on her chest, his fingers reached the purple butterfly, and he lifted it for closer inspection. “I like how this looks on you, you elevate it.” 

“Thank you.” She responded, unsure of his intent. Though it seemed like this was a test, 

Warren put his hand on Kwannon’s waist. A soft, graceful touch. “I also like the curve of your lips, Kwannon.” 

“It’s Psylocke. Kwannon is no longer my name.” She hadn’t corrected him earlier, afraid of the reaction, but this was a private place. She waited for his reaction. His eyes sparkled with interest when she spoke. 

Warren either did not betray himself or did not care that she was now Psylocke. “Interesting. I didn’t expect you to want your mutant name.” He trailed off, hand cupping her face now. 

“Do you not let others call you Angel?” She didn’t mind this closeness, but it was nerve-wracking. He was the first person she let examine her. There was a shared past between them, maybe he was looking for---

Warm water droplets fell from his long blond hair onto her skin. 

“Not unless they’re nasty.” He leaned in lips dangerously close to hers. “I suppose if you’d like you can use it, Psylocke.” 

How was it that he was making her heart beat faster? She was certainly not in love with him. His confidence and pride were infuriating and irritating, but she liked how he pushed her buttons. He was challenging her, wanting to see if she’d take the bait. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” She whispered, playing into his worst sensibilities. Her hand moved to his chin, she deliberately traced her lower lip with her thumb. 

“While else would we be standing so close together?” A smile pulled at his lips. 

She kissed him. A quick, wet, kiss. Warren cupped her cheeks and pushed her to the wall with zero resistance. She was smaller than he was, and all she wanted was to let his energy engulf her. 

But she felt nothing at all. No romance, no spark, no love, nothing leftover from the past. Warren could say the same, ultimately, this was just a kiss. 

The realization was: she was not Betsy, and he was not Matsu'o. They were familiar strangers at best, but she liked the way he kissed her. She liked his tongue and his lips, and his hands on her hips. 

But maybe she just longed to be kissed--

The doorbell rang, interrupting them, with a heavily accented man yelling, “Room service!” 

Psylocke did not mind Warren. She liked him despite her better judgment. If she tried they could be friends. She watched him dart across the room to get the door while haphazardly putting a shirt on, as she took the moment to catch her breath. A faint smile appeared as she realized that their partnership was on neutral grounds. 

She watched him sign for the food and tip the man exorbitantly in cash. 

He was testing her, in his little way, though she was still not satisfied with her conclusion. 

“What was the kiss about?” Kwannon asked, coming off as harsh. 

He raised an eyebrow. “You  _ kissed _ me.” 

“You pushed me to it. That was deliberate.” Kwannon said, arms crossed. “Is that what you do to all the girls?” She was teasing, 

“Just the ones who I’ve known for the better half of a decade.”

Kwannon didn’t laugh. “Why’d you do it?”

“I just wanted to make sure there was nothing between us. You know how complicated we are.” Warren laughed, as he unloaded the food to the dining table. “We’ve known each other for so long, yet I think today is the first time I learned anything about you. I wanted to make sure there’s nothing else here because I did enjoy my time with you, today.”

Kwannon responded, “You just seemed annoyed today.”

“I was only annoyed because I was in 40-degree weather, with my wings strapped to my back. Why don’t you get to know me over our dinner? I promise I’m a lot more likable in an airconditioned room. ” 

Kwannon pulled up a chair. This would prove to be an interesting night. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [@diamongore](https://diamondgore.tumblr.com), and on twitter [@goremeat! ](https://twitter.com/goremeat)
> 
> [](https://twitter.com/goremeat)  
> Please leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed !


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